


Close call

by Nilaza



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, He gets better, Imperial Big Bang, M/M, Major Character Injury, Piett is injuried, Veers is concerned, graphic description of violence, grapic description of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-12 00:39:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11725905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nilaza/pseuds/Nilaza
Summary: Admiral Piett is injured when the Executor is attacked on her way to Kuat. Veers is concerned.





	Close call

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Eisenschrott for beta-ing!

Admiral Piett found that the Hoth campaign overall hadn’t been the success the propaganda machine would have everybody believe. Yes, they had dealt the Rebels a swift and humiliating blow, but Rebel High Command had managed to get away. Even worse, the Empire hadn’t come out of it uninjured either. Aside from the soldiers lost on the ground, and Veers had lamented them quite a lot, they had lost more TIE fighters than Piett cared to think about. But worst of all, his fierce lady Executor had been damaged. Piett had read and reread the damage report: The shields had taken most of the onslaught, a few of the turbolasers had been damaged, as had the hull, though it was not breached. It would however, be mended by a trip to the Kuat shipyards.

Piett had already approved the order for the needed parts, and maintenance work would begin as soon as they reached Kuat. He resented that he and the Lady couldn’t pursue the Rebels with Lord Vader and the rest of the fleet. But after a week or so at Kuat, the Ex and her convoy would rendezvous with Death Squadron, and be back in the fray.

It would be strange not to have Veers drop by every night after their shift ended, to share dinner with Piett in his quarters, and a shag in the bed afterwards, as had been custom for almost two years. Having Ozzel as a direct superior tended to form friendships. At least Piett would be spared the general’s snark. “You worry more about your ship than you do about me when I’m injured,” he had teased.

Piett snuffed out his cig with a little smile. Hell, here he was getting mushy because he couldn’t see Veers for a few weeks. It wasn’t as if he was going to sit around, he’d have plenty to do.

His shift was about to end, and he rose from his desk intending to go to the bridge, though he was reasonably sure the officer of the watch knew what he was doing. It reminded Piett he had to select a captain, but no officer, no matter how outstanding, seemed quite good enough for his Lady Ex.

He would have time on Kuat to deliberate. He walked to the little kitchenette, one of the perks of his new rank, and prepared himself a cup of caf. No matter how much Veers insisted that the caf from the dispensers tasted like durasteel polish, it was still leagues better than the piss Piett had gotten used to in the anti-pirate fleet. Or on Axxila, where it usually was either substitute caf or stale. Piett snorted; not everyone was from planets that grew real caf beans.

He met very few people during his walk to the bridge, a few mouse droids and a couple of troopers, it was pleasant listening to the hum of the ship without being disturbed. He was mulling over who to choose for captain, when his com beeped insistently, and a ship-wide alarm blared. 

“This is Admiral Piett, what in the seven hells is going on?” he barked into his com.

“We have almost reached Kuat, sir, and we’re under attack.” It was his deck officer. Piett heard a buzz of activity in the background, orders being issued, and the sound of running feet.

Under attack, just off a world with heavy imperial presence? Piett grumbled a string of Axxilan curses under his breath. “How many?”

“A fighter squadron, sir, a Hammerhead corvette in the lead. We have send for help from Kuat.”

One fighter squadron against a Super Star Destroyer and her convoy? It was almost an insult. Definitely a suicide mission. However, Scarif had taught them that Hammerheads could be effective against Star Destroyers. “I am on my way.” He terminated the call and marched toward the bridge.

He was at the bottom of the command tower, and heard the unmistakable sounds of the Ex’ turbolasers firing. An alarm began howling again, and the next thing Piett knew, the entire command tower shook.

The ship angled forcefully. Piett had to steady himself against the wall, and he heard the ship’s engines fired up. Through the viewpoint, Piett could see the Rebel attackers ignoring the two other ships and going straight for the Executor. Piett pushed himself off the wall and ran for the bridge, dignity be damned. The sound of the Executor’s turbolasers blared in his ears. Just as he was near the lift to the bridge, the tower shook again, and the durasteel wall bent inwards with a loud screech. Piett was hit before he could dive to safety, and thrown to the opposite wall in a blaze of debris and sparks. He took the wall head-first with a sickening crack, then his back was smashed against it, before he landed on the floor.

The lights in the corridor were out, the durasteel security screens had closed in front of the shattered viewpoints, and the alarm blared in Piett’s ears.

Warm blood tickled down his forehead and his vision blackened as he moved. He blinked furiously against it even as his whole body screamed in protest. He willed himself to stay awake, feeling nauseous, but one hand slipped in blood as he tried to get up, and he banged his head against the floor. This time, it knocked him out cold.

 

\---

 

The report was as straightforward and barebones as one could expect. The Executor was damaged following a Rebel attack on the way to Kuat. The attackers had focused on the Executor, and her two escort ships had been left unharmed. Most of the attackers had escaped, while several crewmembers on the Executor were dead, and even more lives were still in the balance. One of them being that of Admiral Piett.

On a muddy, Rebel-infested shithole somewhere in the Mid Rim, thirteen years before, his superior officer had pulled him aside: _“Major Veers. I regret having to tell you there has been an accident.”_

He hadn’t been present when Eli died, either. Hadn’t seen her for two months. He remembered hearing the news as if muffled through water while his brain fought to make sense of what he heard, and his body turning cold.

He hadn’t even been granted leave for the funeral. Zev had to attend it alone with his grandparents, and had never forgiven him for it. Veers had never forgiven himself either.

 _Relax!_ , Veers ordered himself, feeling his heart beating far too quickly. _He is wounded, not dead._

The last time he had seen him, Piett had escorted him to the hangar. “Don’t get mushy on me, I’ll only be gone for a few weeks,” Piett had ordered. But they had kissed each other behind the leg of an AT-AT like a couple of love-struck cadets, and Veers had promised to stay well.

Not dead, _yet._ Veers felt icy cold, and a heavy lump settled in his stomach and his chest. Hell, he wasn’t sure he could survive the death of another significant other. He and Eli had also shared a kiss and a “stay safe,” the last time he had seen her.

“Get your act together!” Veers snarled, aloud this time, scowling at thin air. He was grateful he was alone in his office, no one to witness General “Iron” Max Veers almost panicking because Piett had been wounded.

He rose from his chair. Panicking would do no good, and Piett would call him a silly sentimental dirt-pounder for it. Piett was as tough as nails, he had seen some shit, been through some shit.

Though, Veers remembered, two times so far, Piett had woken up from nightmares. It had taken him a few moments to calm down, and the look in his eyes was that of unadulterated terror. Veers would hold him tightly, then, in silence. They never spoke of it after.

Veers couldn’t request a leave now, as much as he wanted to be at Piett’s side. He was needed where he was, and he would have to pull himself together. The doctors on Kuat were good, Piett was going to be fine.

Veers sat back down and forced himself to read the rest of the damage report. It had been a hit-and-run, attacking the flagship at her most vulnerable. A Hammerhead had barged into the Ex, trying to sever her command tower.

Just like Scarif a few years past, where two Star dDestroyers had been far too close to each other, and the ground battle had been a chaotic mess. Veers had ranted often enough about it to anyone who cared to listen, mostly Piett, after a few glasses of grog. And he was still damned sure that if he and Blizzard Force had been present, the outcome would have been different.

Having finished reading the report, Veers looked at his chrono: they ought to have made it to Kuat by now, and they had probably transferred Piett to the military medcenter on the surface. He tapped at the comm unit on his desk, and put in the code for Kuat. It beeped for several minutes before a male voice spoke, slightly garbled due to the long-distance connection.

“You have reached the Kuat City Military Medcenter. Nurse Pax speaking, how may I help you?”

Veers hesitated. Their relationship was not official, and though one could hardly hide anything from a superior officer like theirs, it was still better kept under wraps as much as possible.

Just as the nurse was about to ask again, Veers spoke up, “It’s General Veers, I am calling for news on Admiral Piett.” Better play it as nothing more than concern for his direct superior; besides, even if their relationship was not known, their friendship was.

“General, the admiral suffered extensive injuries. Death Squadron should have received the report on the incident, and beyond that, I am not authorized to tell you more.”

Veers had read it, and it told him nothing, and he did not have access to the admiral’s medical record. He bit back some sharp reply. “Can you patch me through to his ward?”

Veers herd clicking, possibly the nurse was checking something on his com station. “The admiral is in an induced coma, he cannot talk to anyone for the time being, sir.”

Veers nearly dropped the com, while all the fear he had managed to stomp down came roaring back and contracted his chest, making breathing difficult. “Can you tell me when he might wake up?” _Can you please tell me that he will be all right?_

“I cannot relay any such information, sir, I am sorry.” The nurse sounded like he was, for all the good that did.

Veers thanked him and ended the call. He had hoped calling the medcenter might calm his nerves, but he was now more worried than ever. If only he could go to Kuat, to see for himself.

This was exactly why interservice relationships were discouraged. If Veers could not focus on his duty because Piett was injured, if it was made official that that was the reason, they’d have the choice between reassignment or ceasing their relationship. If said lack of focus didn’t cause a major soup sandwich, that was.

Veers slapped himself hard. He was still on duty, and there were things to be tended to. They were headed into another battle, and he needed to be sure men and machinery were up to the task.

 

\----

 

It had been three weeks since the attack, a little less since he had been woken up from the induced coma, and Piett was getting bored. It was not that his whole body didn’t hurt like the ninth hell, not that he didn’t have headaches, seizures, was nauseous half the bloody time and horribly weak the other half, and his body was covered in patches where the surgeons had spent a couple of hours pulling shrapnel out of him. Though, as far as brain injuries went, it was mild. He had been lucky.

However, he ought to be out there chasing Rebels, not chained to a bed. Needing help to eat and to go to the ‘fresher was beyond the pale, and he couldn’t work from his bed, as the doctor had ordered extensive rest. So here he was, bored out of his mind, and disgustingly dependent.

He shifted carefully in his bed, gritting his teeth against the discomfort. Dependence on others was a weakness he had rarely been able to afford, and he felt weak and exposed lying in bed hardly able to move. Not that he was foreign to injury, but each time he was suspended in a bed, he had trouble sleeping and felt a creeping sensation of being lurked at.

He told himself to get a grip, he was on an Imperial world, in an Imperial medcenter under heavy surveillance. He was not on a seedy medcenter on Axxila, where one never knew what crime lord might decide to storm it to massacre everyone inside.

Piett clearly remembered the first time it had happened while he was in the anti-pirate fleet, and he’d been part of the investigation team. The memory came back so strong he could smell the blood on the hallways, and hear the buzz of the flies. The hospital had been abandoned for almost a day when they were finally able to go in, and it was in the middle of summer.

It had neither been the first nor the last time a hospital had been targeted as part of the vicious gang wars on Axxila. The authorities had been too weak and too corrupt to do much about it, leaving people’s lives at the mercy of crime lords, who only cared about spice and profit. It was before he and the few other uncorrupted officers in the anti-pirate fleet enforced Imperial rule there.

This would not do. He’d go mad if he was to lie here with only his thoughts as company. Because of his rank, he had the room to himself, it was clean and the bed was nice, but it bore the very distinct air of clinical cleanness. White walls, white bedcoverings, white furniture. As a silver lining he had a window, showing a three and the sky.

It was strange how just the sight of the sky, the feeling of the vast space overhead, could ease him. It reminded him of the Lady, which in turn reminded him of Veers.

He hadn’t been able to contact Veers yet. The nurse told him the general had called on the day of the attack, but as far as Piett gathered, Death Squadron was engaged in combat, and all non-essential communication was suspended. He was sure Veers would worry himself sleepless. Just like Piett would if their roles were reversed, he could admit to himself. Piett reached out for his pad on the table; he was forbidden from working, but at least he could watch a holomovie.

There were precious little but warholoes available, and he chose a holomovie based on the formation of the Empire. It showed how then-Chancellor Palpatine valiantly tried to hold the rotten-to-the-core Republic together, but was opposed by power-hungry Jedi, greedy Separatists and corrupt senators. An ISB-approved holo, of course, and Piett rolled his eyes at some of the more blatantly propaganda-ish scenes, but it was not bad at all. The part about the Republic not giving a shit about the Outer Rim was true enough.

Piett snorted at the end of the holo. It had taken him, a lowly Axxilan street urchin, seven years in the anti-pirate fleet to weed out corruption, and to make Axxila’s spaceport the safest in the entire sector. A feat not even the Republic’s treasured keepers of peace and justice managed. Or maybe it was because they didn’t care.

He took a sip of the caff sitting on the bedtable and looked out the window. A headache was beginning to nag at the base of his skull, but it wasn’t bad enough to warrant painmeds. The doctors told him to get used to having headaches in the future anyway.

His com beeped, and he did not recognize the incoming number, so he pressed the audio only button. Admirals could not be seen in hospital gowns. “This is Admiral Piett.”

“General Veers. It’s good to hear your voice again, sir.” Despite the formal words, there was much warmth in Veers’ voice. Piett tapped another button, and Veers’ head and torso appeared on the screen; he looked tired but otherwise well, and he lit up in a smile when he saw Piett.

“Likewise, General. How are things going? Is my xo up to the task?”

“He is. We have engaged the Rebels, but not much have come of it yet. But I did call to ask how _you_ are doing?” A frown of concern appeared on Veers’ face.

“I’ve been through worse,” Piett said, a bit hot under the scrutiny.

Veers rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, and there was the one time you had to crawl back to your ship, defeating three pirates on your way using only your tongue. Nine hells, Firmus, you were in an induced coma, please drop the professional pride and just tell me.”

Annoyance swept the warm feeling in his chest away. He spent all bloody day talking about his injuries with nurses and doctors, and when they weren’t there, he could feel the constant egging and pecking in his whole body. His head gave a wicked stab and he grimaced. “Yes, I was in an induced coma, but the swelling in my brain has subsided, and the brain damage appears to be minimal. Other than that, it’s just broken bones. Really, Max, it could have gone a lot worse.”

“You look like you haven’t slept at all,” Veers commented, still with that concerned look in his eyes. Some of the annoyance faded away. Veers was the caring type and it was natural for him to be concerned. Absurdly, Veers’ caring nature at the same time annoyed and attracted him, but it felt good that someone was concerned for his wellbeing. Just as it had felt good venting to Veers when Ozzel had been at his most malicious.

“Yes, I have trouble sleeping,” Piett admitted, though it was not only because of the injury, “I have headaches, am dizzy, I get tired quickly and have seizures.” He gave a deep sigh. “They’re going to transfer me to the rehabilitation ward tomorrow,” he hoped Veers did not hear the unease in his voice.

“I will come visit you,” Veers promised. “I have a few days leave,” he gave a wide grin, “after hours just aren’t the same without you, sailor.”

Piett couldn’t help returning his smile, the annoyance was entirely gone now, but his headache was getting worse and he was feeling tired. Veers’ smile vanished and the concerned frown was back when Piett grimaced and rubbed his head.

“You look exhausted, Firmus, I should let you rest,” Veers said, “stay safe, sailor.”

He couldn’t suppress a yawn, “you too, Max, it’s you in the fray, I’m just lying around here being useless.”

“Speedy recovery, dear,” Veers said, before ending the transmission.

Piett lay back down into the pillows, rubbing his palms over eyes fighting to stay open. He used to be able to deal with 48-hour shifts when it was worst. Admittedly, at the end of that shift, he had been high on caff and sugar, and about ready to murder someone to be able to sleep. Now he was tired after watching a holomovie and talking to Veers.

He'd told Veers he would muddle through, and he would, he just hoped it would be fast enough. There were lots of examples of extensive medical leave turning to honourable discharge, simply because the armed forces needed their commanding officers. Piett might have an unusually good working relationship with their supreme commander, but he was not irreplaceable.

He yawned, and fell asleep before he could ponder it more.

 

 

The rehabilitation centre in Kuat City was not much different from ones Veers had seen across the galaxy; a large building several stories tall, located just beside the military medcenter, with a large entryway and surrounded by a wall. Nothing special, and not especially encouraging.

Veers payed the cabdriver, and walked towards the entrance. He was asked for identification, and produced his code cylinder for scanning before he was let through the gate. Once inside, the receptionist guided him to Piett’s room. He passed several patients on the way through the halls, most with missing limbs, a few that had been paralyzed, and a couple with no visible physical injuries.

It reminded him it could have gotten worse, and it also made old buried memories flash before his inner eye. He shook his head and knocked on Piett’s door, and entered upon being asked to.

Piett sat supported by pillows, but he was vertical, and there was colour in his cheeks and no equipment connected to him, as Veers had feared. Of course, if he had been that bad, he wouldn’t’ve been here yet. A nurse was packing up his things, and gave Veers a polite nod as he exited.

The room was small and clinical but had a window. On the nightstand stood an ashtray, with a still smoking cig in it, and two get well soon-cards, one from Piett’s xo, the other from Veers himself. He turned his gaze back to Piett. “Hello sailor,” he said quietly, with a gentle smile, “how are you?”

Piett grimaced. “Better. You didn’t say you were visiting today.” He patted his bedside invitingly and sported a little smile.

“I wanted it to be a surprise, I’ll be here for three days.” He sat down on the edge of Piett’s bed and leaned in for a kiss, taking Piett’s hand and caressing it, happy to feel Piett squeeze back.

Their lips brushed against each other. Piett entwined their fingers, and reached up with the other hand to run it through Veers’ hair.

“Kriffin’ hell I am so happy you are all right, Firmus,” Veers mumbled into the kiss. “I was scared stiff.”

Piett ran his knuckles over Veers’ cheek, pulling back to look him in the eye as he did, his expression very serious. “I was in a skirmish, it is part of my job, General.” There was a slight emphasis on the rank.

Not wanting to listen to Piett calling him a sentimental berk, or worse, lecturing him about jeopardizing their jobs or the war with feelings, Veers changed the subject. He presented Piett with a box. “I brought chocolates, I hope you like them.”

The frown on Piett’s face vanished. He opened the box and inspected the chocolates for a moment, breaking into the second smile Veers had seen that day, before popping a piece in his mouth. He chewed, and closed his eyes with a little moan of appreciation. “Thanks, luv,” he said with his mouth half full. His face had a blissful expression. Veers couldn’t help grin at Piett and his sweet tooth.

“So, what do the doctors say about your recovery?” Veers asked, smile faltering, looking Piett up and down. He was wearing a white hospital tunic, open enough for Veers to notice the bandages on his torso.

Piett swallowed the rest of his mouthful. “The ribs are healing nicely, as are the shrapnel wounds. The brain injury is the worst.”

“Maybe you should begin wearing a helmet, sir,” Veers joked to lighten the mood.

“If you think I’ll trot around the Executor wearing one of your stupid helmets, you are more dirt-brained than I thought.”

“Don’t pretend. You love me in my cuirass, helmet included.” Veers grinned. “The looks you give me when I am geared up and sweaty after combat are downright sultry.”

“Well, you can’t expect a man to forget being sucked off thoroughly as he sits in the pilot seat of an AT-AT, before getting buggered within an inch of his life,” Piett retorted with a grin of his own. “Though it might take some time before we can repeat it… Nerve damage, you know.” The grin faltered. “Blasted Rebels, they deserve to be dragged through all nine Corellian hells, not just for this.”

“Firmus, be honest with me, please.” Veers looked him in the eye and took his hand again. The creeping worry was back in full force. “How bad is it?”

He expected a scoffing dismissal of his worry, an order not to be such a fusspot. But Piett went very pale, and his eyes unfocused.

“Firmus?” Veers squeezed his hand, shifted a bit to catch his eye, but there was no reaction.

Suddenly, the admiral went as rigid as a board, pushing the box to the ground, eyes rolling to the back of his head, mouth slack. Veers had seen people have seizures before. He checked the chrono to measure the jerks, and gently turned the admiral onto his side as his body began spasming.

“It is ok, Firmus.” He placed a hand under his head and checked his pulse with the other; it was strong, and Piett’s breathing was unrestrained. The new position bared the patch covered scar in the back of Piett’s head, and Veers carefully avoided touching it as he soothed him. He told him not to worry, that he was safe, while the bed shook with his wild motions.

Not even two minutes had passed when a couple of nurses entered, summoned by the bracelet around Piett’s wrist, and one nurse administered medicine and checked his vitals as the spasms continued. She nodded in approval at Veers when she saw how he reacted to it all. “You’ve done that before, General.”

Veers hissed in pain as Piett accidentally kicked him; he repositioned himself, not moving his hand away from under Piett’s head. “Yes… I’ve seen my share of brain trauma.”

The seizure lasted two minutes thirty seconds, and Veers continued soothingly speaking to Piett, as the latter sank bonelessly against the bed. The nurse checked him over again. Piett groaned, eyelids fluttering as he came around, but his gaze was sluggish, and he frowned in confusion.

“You had a seizure, Admiral,” the nurse said calmly, “it is over now, and you are at the hospital on Kuat.” She then turned to Veers, voice filled with polite authority as she addressed him, “General, the admiral needs rest, I suggest you come back at another time.”

Before Veers could think of a politer response than telling her she could drag him out kicking and screaming if she dared try, Piett spoke up. “No… stay, please.” His voice was weak and his eyelids were dropping.

Veers thanked the many years of being a soldier for being able to keep a calm façade. He had hardly ever seen Piett so frail, and the tightness in his chest grew even tighter. “Of course,” he said, looking up at the nurse.

“Fine, but he must rest.” She gave him a stern warning glance, to which he nodded amiably, before leaving them alone.

Veers gently stood from Piett’s bedside, picked up the box of chocolate from the floor, and placed it on the side table. He found a chair and pulled it up to Piett’s bed, smiling at him when he noticed him looking at him under heavy lids. He leaned over to plant a soft kiss on Piett’s sweaty brow, then sat back and took his hand. “It’ll be ok,” he mumbled, trying to reassure himself just as much as Piett.

Upon arrival, he had been elated to find him sitting up in bed and apparently being his normal self. But for all Piett’s dismissal of the severity of his injuries, Veers had seen too many wounded and killed soldiers to believe him entirely. Brain injury was not to be taken lightly.

Piett looked at him through half-lidded eyes, the corners of his mouth turned a little upwards, and Veers thought he saw something pointed in his gaze. As if he was saying, You worry too much, Max.

Veers smiled back at him, and squeezed his hand as Piett closed his eyes again. It wasn’t long until he dozed off.

Veers sat with Piett’s hand in his as the latter slept, listening to the comforting sound of Piett’s even breathing. After a while he let go of Piett to rub his own face with both hands. He tried to swallow the knot of rising worry that seemed stuck in his throat, but was unable.

Veers rose, walked a bit up and down, careful to be quiet, and opted for taking his mind off his worries with a cup of caff and a datapad. Piett was right, in any case; he had just received a traumatic brain injury three weeks previous, and still not being entirely himself was expected. 

Veers was sure there was no way he was getting replaced until absolutely necessary, and he had been a soldier long enough to know that the human body could deal with a great deal more than one would think.

 

 

\-----

 

A little more than a year had passed since the Executor had been attacked, and the admiral was finally back on his ship. He had been well received by his crew, and while in public Veers had restrained himself to a hearty expression of how happy he was to have him back. Piett had given a genuine smile, and invited him for dinner in his private quarters.

At the allotted time, Veers knocked the door, and stepped in upon being invited. A smile spread on his face as he saw Piett. “Happy to be back on the ship?”

“You have no idea,” Piett sighed, rising from his desk and approaching. “I was getting tired of the medcenter, of the damned mollycoddling, and I missed the Executor.”

Veers smirked, only Piett would think of the meds in a military facility as mollycoddlers. But before he could tease him about it, Piett stepped closer to kiss him, wrapping an arm around his back to pull him close.

Veers ran his fingers gently through Piett's hair, thin but regrown, and he didn’t feel the scar. They brushed their lips together, then Veers parted his lips to let Piett’s tongue touch his own and deepen the kiss. Finally he had returned, and Veers could run his hands all over him, caress his back, his sides, his scrawny ass, feel Piett’s weight against him.

After a few moments of good snogging, Veers was already snug in his pants, and Piett's kisses grew more eager, and he began pulling at Veers’ belt. Veers broke the kiss, but not the embrace. “Wait... you sure it's a good idea? Can you?”

Piett snorted. “I can assure you, all parts of me are working fine again. Just, maybe we should avoid a rough pounding against the wall.” His stare was hard, warning Veers against pressing the subject or even show pity.

Veers nodded silently, and pulled Piett closer to a deep kiss again, while opening the clasp on his tunic, and then his belt. He dragged his nails down over Piett’s undershirt and pulled it free of his pants to repeat the movement on Piett’s bare chest, and moved on to his back where he felt scars not gone entirely yet.

Piett hissed in delight and pressed himself to Veers, who felt his hardening erection through the trousers. He ground himself against Veers a few times, while kissing him. Then he pulled off his tunic and undershirt, and moved to lie it carefully aside on the table; he toed his boots off, and grimaced slightly at a pang of pain through hips and legs.

Veers made it to rid himself of belt and tunic, before Piett was over him again, dragging fingers down his back and front, mouth locked with his, and grinding against him, his boner poking Veers’ thigh, and making his own give a twitch.

For having just spoken against a rough pounding, Piett was surprisingly rough himself, pushing Veers to the wall, hands roaming all over his far too clothed body. One hand pulling him close, the other squeezing his arse, shifting to the front to palm him through the trousers, making him groan into Piett’s hair.

It was usually Piett taking the lead, and Veers followed with equally roaming hands and passionate kisses. Piett pulled him towards his bed and pushed him down first, sat across his lap, calves on either side of Veers’ thighs, and tugged at his undershirt, warm hands caressing the skin underneath.

Veers pulled the tank top over his head, letting Piett’s hands feel up muscles, sliding over old scars. Meanwhile, Veers returned the favour, trailing fingertips over Piett’s sides where his ribs were too prominent for Veers’ liking; he made no comment, however. He spread his fingers over Piett’s warm skin, leaning in to press a kiss to his jaw, then trail down to his neck, hands caressing his back.

Veers was the first to admit it turned him the heck on when Piett was so rough and commanding in bed. And it amused him to no end to see Piett squirm in delight when he touched him, and feel him hum in appreciation into his ear, feeling his lips on his.

They were both still too clothed, Veers’ erection pressed uncomfortably against his trousers, and his skin tingled when it was in contact with Piett’s. His next kiss was more eager, tongues rolling against each other’s.

 

Piett gave a hard push, and Veers fell back onto the mattress, dragging Piett down with him. They lay face to face, and Piett ground himself against the bulge in Veers’ trousers.

Now having more room, Veers trailed his hands all over Piett’s body, sides, back, butt, while their mouths were busy with slower, more sensual kisses.

Piett leaned on one elbow and snaked his hand down between them, unzipping Veers’ trousers and giving his cock a few hard strokes, finally in contact with his skin. Veers thrusted up into his hand, almost bouncing Piett off him.

He used the momentum to flip them over, putting Piett on his back below. It was getting uncomfortable with boots and pants on, and he kicked them all off in an unruly pile on the floor, before returning fully naked on all fours over Piett. The latter looked him up and down slowly, licking his lips, and the look in his eyes sent a tendril of lust down Veers’ spine; a drop of precum dripped from his cock.

Leaning most of his weight on an arm, Veers lay on Piett to capture his mouth in a breath-stealing kiss, then moved on to his jaw, running his tongue down his throat, as Piett tilted his head to make room.

He fluttered kisses over Piett’s collarbone, and down to one nipple, determined to draw the pleasure out, even as his erection demanded quick attention. Piett hummed in appreciation and arched his back as Veers moved from the stiff nipple to his stomach.

Piett still wore trousers, so Veers mouthed the outline of his erection through them, until Piett thrusted up against his mouth with a whine.

Piett put his knee to Veers’ chest to push him away, giving him room for pulling off pants and trousers down in one go, and neatly folded them on the floor. Veers huffed in impatience. Then Piett lay back down and spread his legs.

There were more scars on Piett’s hips and thighs, and though Veers had seen his share of injuries, it still surprised him. “You look like someone used you for target practice, sailor,” he remarked.

“Yes, but I’m fine now.” Piett leaned up for a kiss And lay back onto the bed.

Veers knelt between his legs. He bent down and kissed along the line of hair from Piett’s navel to his groin, making him squirm when the kisses touched sensitive skin. He kissed the tender skin along Piett’s inner thigh, and heard a stifled laughter. “Stop teasing me!” Piett said with a voice strained by biting back giggling.

Veers complied. After giving Piett’s todger a few licks, he took him in, opening his eyes to look at Piett’s face.

Piett’s hungry eyes encouraged him to keep going. There was a bitten back groan as Veers alternated sucking and flicking his tongue all over.

Piett sat propped up on his elbows, watching with heavy-lidded eyes as Veers tongued the tip of his cock, licking the slit. Piett’s legs twitched; he parted his lips and breathed in sharply.

Encouraged, Veers took him in fully again, and giving him a few hard sucks, the wet noises filling the room.

“Max…” Piett croaked, reaching down to play with his hair, rolling his hips, thrusting into his mouth.

Veers slowed down. In a torturous tease he sucked and licked up and down Piett’s length, fondling his balls with both hands, and eliciting deep, breathy half-moans from him. He could feel Piett’s gaze on him.

“Kriffin’ hell, Max,” Piett groaned, now grabbing Veers’ hair. “Speed up ye’ -” Whatever else Piett was about to say was lost in a moan as Veers gave him a couple of hard, full-length sucks.

Veers continued for a few more moments, until Piett had to strain against squirming on the mattress, and Veers could hear him panting hard. He didn’t want everything to be over yet, so he let go of him and, grinning at Piett’s lusty, offended glare, he moved to the nightstand to search for lube in a drawer.

While rummaging, he bent down to kiss Piett’s mouth, the latter treating him to a lip-biting, frantic kiss. “Dirt-pounder, get back down to polishin’ my blaster, or start buggerin’ me.”

Veers found the lube, lay down beside Piett and the latter rolled over, his back to Veers’ chest, and his butt to Veers’ groin. Veers caressed Piett’s sides and legs, planting kisses to his nape, sliding one hand up his thigh, and giving his todger another slow, but firm caress.

As his hands slid across almost-healed wounds, Veers felt Piett tense up. “You ok?” he rumbled.

“Yes!” came the snappish reply. “Don’ ye’ dare cuddle me!”

Piett would not admit it to himself, but he was grateful when Veers’ touches remained gentle and tender. His skin was tingly with want, and he was aroused and needy, the slow caresses drawing out the pleasure.

Veers poured lube onto his hand. He propped himself up on one elbow, leaning over to kiss Piett who had turned his head. Meanwhile, with his other hand, Veers gently fondled Piett’s arse, and Piett spread his legs to make room for Veers to caress the entrance, spreading lube there.

Piett turned his head back, to better lean into Veers’ arms, arse pushing gently into Veers’ hands, but gritting his teeth as a pang of pain through his body dampened his arousal.

Piett clenched a fist, and Veers halted in his movements. Piett took a few deep breaths; getting annoyed would not help anything. After a moment, he moved his arse backwards into Veers’ hand. “Continue.”

Piett exhaled forcefully, in arousal this time, when Veers again stroked his opening and dipped a lubed finger in, slowly pushing in and pulling out, first the tip of the finger, then another centimetre, caressing his inner walls, until Piett relaxed enough for him to add a second finger.

Piett groaned and arched his butt into Veers’ touch, a slow hand stroking his own dick. Hot spikes of pleasure trailed up and down his spine. It had been too bloody long since he’d been fucked, and he groaned as Veers caressed his prostate.

“Max…” Piett mewled, rolling his hips onto Veers’ fingers, his own fingers curled into the sheet.

Veers lubed himself up thoroughly, grabbed Piett’s leg and lifted it a bit. He slid in carefully, giving Piett time to adjust despite his own gasp of release at finally making contact.

Piett was tighter than usual, and needed a few moments to relax. Then he pushed his hips back, taking Veers deeper with a grunt of mixed pleasure and pain.

Holding Piett’s leg, and nipping at his neck and ear, Veers rolled his hips and pushed in completely with a throaty moan, his whole body burning with the need to thrust hard and fast.

He rolled his hips gently, caressing the leg he held, licking and biting at Piett’s shoulder, ear and jaw, encouraged by the little mewling sounds Piett made, and the way he eagerly met his thrusts.

Pleasure rolled hot down Veers’ spine and he thrust deeper, though still rolling his hips slowly, moaning as he felt the tight heat around him.

Piett uttered a groan of pain rather than pleasure. At the next thrust, he howled and swore. Startled, Veers pulled out and lowered his leg back down. “What’s wrong?”

“Huttfuckin’ son o’ a rotten banthabrained cunt!” Piett snarled through bared teeth, so viciously it made Veers freeze up, but it wasn’t directed at him.

Piett slammed his fist on the mattress. Every nerve in his body seemed to tense up and his muscles spasmed, deflating his erection. He gritted his teeth against the pain.

“Firmus?” Veers placed a hand on the small of his back, rubbing soothing circles there as Piett panted. _Shit_ , he had hurt him, _shit, shit._ Sporting a deflating erection himself, and a raising pulse, Veers looked Piett up and down for any reopened wounds or other visible damage. Not finding any, he just continued to caress him. “I’m sorry, I thought you were ready.”

“I was!” Piett growled, breath now calmer, despite the sweat on his brow. “It’s ok… let’s give it another try.”

“Hell no, sailor,” Veers said, “I am not causing that again! What the hell happened?”

Piett turned to kiss him. “I want you,” he said, gaze already roaming Veers’ muscled form. He moved one hand down Veers’ slightly sweaty torso, making him hiss when he dug in his nails. “It was just a bit too much too soon, Max. Come on, don’t treat me as if I were made of wet flimsi.” He leaned in to kiss him again, deeply this time, tongue prying Veers’ lips apart and stroking his tongue.

Veers stirred helplessly as Piett’s hands and eager kisses lit the need as always. He responded in kind, running a hand up Piett’s thigh and side, up to tangle his fingers in his thin hair, pulling him closer.

They lay snogging for a few moments, Piett groping Veers’ abs, then his stomach and ‘round his waist to knead the afterburners.

Veers pushed Piett flat on his back, gingerly lay atop him, and ground his quickly re-hardening erection against Piett’s. The latter again reached down to Veers’ arse, swatting it with a flat hand, once on each arsecheek, while he nipped at his lips. Each swat sent a wave of pleasure straight to Veers’ groin, and his cock twitched.

Piett spread his legs on each side of Veers invitingly, and kissed him. “General, enough of this, back to business, please...”

The sight of Piett squirming under him, his cock hard and red, his face flush with arousal, and lustful, heavy-lidded eyes, made Veers grin widely. He kissed his way down Piett’s scrawny, but subtly toned body.

When he licked past Piett’s cock, he heard an impatient, needy whine, and he moved further down, licking at his balls. Piett moaned when he gently kissed the sensitive area between balls and anus.

Veers continued lavishing attention to the tender flesh on Piett’s inner thighs and balls, nipping and kissing and licking. He had to gather a bit of courage for what he was about to do, it would be the first time.

While coaxing out breathy gasps of pleasure as he licked Piett’s balls, he reached on the nightstand for rubbers, and used a few seconds to roll one onto his tongue, covering his lips too. Piett looked to see why he’d stopped and his eyes widened in pleased surprise.

Before he could say anything, Veers went back to business, tracing his tongue around Piett’s hole, and Piett gasped. His legs trembled slightly, and he spread them further apart to give Veers space. The latter carefully and methodically licked his entrance, until Piett grabbed his hair and gave a push.

Veers took the hint and edged his tongue in, closing his eyes and ignoring the surprisingly bland taste of lube. He licked carefully beyond the muscle, and felt Piett relax around him, accompanied by a couple of breathless hums of appreciation from above.

Veers continued, licking the inner walls, and Piett’s sounds grew a little louder. He craned his neck to watch Veers, while combing his fingers through his hair. Veers opened his eyes and saw Piett’s flushed face and his lustful glance, and the sight made him smirk though he didn’t cease his licking.

“How … how can ye’ sport that silly smirk while- “ the rest of Piett’s sentence was lost in a moan as Veers’ tongue caressed the sweet spot inside.

Happy to have shut the pint-sized admiral up for once, Veers began licking harder, pushing as far in as possible, while lapping at the nub inside.

Piett curled his toes in the bedsheet, spreading his legs as wide as possible, and rolling his hips, head angled backwards, eyes closed. “Oh… jus’… jus’ like that, luv,” he mewled, reaching down to touch himself.

But Veers pried his hand off and grabbed Piett’s cock himself, timing the strokes with his licks. Piett moaned loudly, rolling his hips. Veers spread a drop of precum over his cockhead with a finger, and thumbed the slit, while continuing with his tongue.

Piett dragged his nails along Veers’ scalp, digging them into his skin as his body tensed up to the approaching climax. He shifted on the bed, closing his eyes and moaning again as Veers’ hand squeezed deliciously around his member, stroking fast from balls to tip, tongue lapping just as fast in him.

For a few moments, Veers continued his ministrations, licking and pumping, until Piett’s moans grew deeper. Then he slowed almost to a halt, agonizingly slowly rolling his tongue, avoiding to hit the nub.

Piett grunted, rolling his hips forward and up, pulling Veers hair harder. “If ye’ don’t stop teasin’ me, I swear on ol’ Boonta’s bones, I’m goin’ ta’ bugger ye’ senseless!”

Veers pressed the attack at full force again, licking as hard and fast as he could and pumping Piett’s cock, though his tongue was getting sore. He was rewarded with the deepest, longest moan from Piett yet, and he sped up a tad more.

Piett almost ripped a few of Veer’s hairs out as his fingers curled. His balls contracted, every lick and stroke brining him closer to the brink.

A few more, deep licks, and Piett bucked his hips wildly as he shot all over Veers’ hand and his own stomach, his vision blackened, and his whole body shook as he came with a loud groan.

Sweaty and panting, Piett sagged on the bed and smiled blissfully to the ceiling. He dipped his head down to find Veers again sporting a very self-satisfied grin “Get up here, an’ I’ll wipe that smirk off your face, dirt-pounder.”

Veers removed the condom from his tongue, and crawled up to kiss him. Piett grimaced at the taste of lube, and looked down to the boner Veers was sporting. It must be painful by now. “On fours over me,” he ordered.

Veers turned and hunched so that Piett had easy access to his straining cock, and moaned in relief when he finally felt Piett’s mouth on his cock, licking first, then taking him balls-deep. Piett took a firm grip on both his arsecheeks, and kneaded as he bobbed his head, sucking and licking Veers’ cock.

When Veers began moving, Piett tightened the grip on his arse, gave one cheek a slap. Veers dipped his head, and the sight of Piett on the bed with his own come on his stomach, and lips flush around Veers’ cock, sent sparks of desire down Veers’ spine. He kept looking.

Piett took him in fully again, slipped him out to lick the cockhead and lavish attention under it, while one finger slid slowly from the arsecheek and into the crevice.

Veers knew he wouldn’t last long under Piett’s clever tongue and fingers. He rolled his hips down into the sweet heat, sparks traveling up and down his spine at every suck and lick, every touch of Piett’s fingers to his entrance.

“Just like that, don’t you dare stop.” His breath hitched as Piett edged his finger in and caressed the sweet spot, sucking harder on his cock.

Veers moaned loudly as a hot wave shot through him from head to toe. He trembled all over as he climaxed, arms and legs threatening to give way under him.

Piett saw the danger of being crushed, released him from his mouth and pushed him slightly so Veers tumbled down beside Piett, making the mattress bounce as he did so.

 

  
A few moments later, they just lay in each other’s arms in comfortable silence. Piett scooted closer to him once the sweat on his body cooled off, and gooseflesh peppered his skin. With a content sigh, he leaned in to Veers’ broad chest, enjoying the warmth and the closeness.

Veers pulled the blanket up to cover them both. He ran his hand over Piett’s side, feeling the ribs. “You’re even scrawnier than usual, do you eat?”

“Clam up, Max,” Piett grumbled, before yawning. “Trying to sleep.”

Veers continued to caress him in silence. No doubt Piett was a tough bugger, but here he had almost been killed onboard his Lady Ex. It boggled Veers’ mind how the hell a tiny complement of X-Wings could even scrape the durasteel polish on a Super Star Destroyer.

Since Eli’s death, he hadn’t had anyone, save for casual shags, until the pint-sized-sailor barged into his life. Veers was surprised by how quickly he’d been smitten by the competent but rather aloof man now in his arms. Not that Veers could entirely blame him for being like that; he had only scratched the surface of Piett’s past on Axxila, and it was enough to give a battle-hardened soldier like himself nightmares.

Yes, he had rather fallen head over heels, just like with Eli. He wanted to tell Piett this, in words as much as he already did in deeds; even the bickering was more affection than anything else. However. “I love you,” he whispered into Piett’s hair, the deep, even breaths convincing him Piett was asleep. The words leaving his tongue spread a smile on his lips, though he also felt a buzz of adrenaline, like he’d just made a daring move on the battlefield. “I love you,” he repeated.

Piett turned his head to look at Veers with half-lidded eyes, and a little frown. “Max,” he said quietly, “now? When we just again reminded of how fickle our lives are?”

At least he hadn’t ran away screaming. Or called him an idiot, but Veers could practically hear him thinking it. “Yes,” he said firmly, meeting his gaze, though feeling his cheek colour, “and I am not afraid to say it.”

“You sentimental berk,” Piett said, still quietly. “Has that debacle with Eliana taught you nothing?”

Veers regretted having opened his mouth. The contemptuous tone, the realization that there was no way in hell Piett was going to reciprocate his confession, and what that meant. It felt like a kick to the guts. “It has,” he said calmly. “I am thankful I never missed a chance to tell her I loved her. And I nearly missed it with you.” More sentimental spewing, his heart laid bare for Piett to stomp on if he felt like it. And he looked more awake and more closed off.

Piett sat up and ran a hand through his hair down to his nape. He groped for a cig in the drawer but didn’t find any. “Max...” He wetted his lips, then he glared at him as if to erase that miniscule gesture of unease. “Max, it’s not as if I had much time to date while in the anti-pirate fleet. Attachments form targets, and in the navy it is not much different.”

Veers’ stomach took a flying leap. It had been too soon, way too bloody much way too soon. He really was a sentimental berk. “If you don’t reciprocate it is fine, I can take it,” he said, trying to sound casual with a fast beating heart and a dry mouth.

Piett’s glare grew colder. “Max, don’t. Don’t goad me into telling you what you mean to me. If my actions by now haven’t convinced you...” He rose from the bed, hairs standing all over his body as he searched for clothes.

“I’m sorry, Firmus,” Veers said. This was not how the evening was supposed to end, and he sat up, watching Piett put on pants and an undershirt. “Come back to bed, I’ll stop going on about it.” He outstretched an inviting hand.

Piett gingerly lay back down, and Veers pulled him into his arms again, running his hand along Piett’s side lovingly.

Piett was right, he did show him in deeds every day. Still, Veers yearned to hear it. He sighed, his stomach felt heavy. It was clear they had different needs, and Veers hoped it would not tear them apart in the end.


End file.
